The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1887-02-05

matter either-I go up by the first train
tomorrow, and we shall not meet again.
If you care to write, my home address will
find me. God bless you, old fellow; you
will take my blessing for what you think it
worth. AMBROSE MALET."
No, l had not believed him, and I did
not write. My eyes grew dim with mem
cries as I read the note now I laid it
down and fell into thought. l had but
just come from the death bed of an old
parishoner, who had passed away in peace
To parsons as to doctors, familiarity with
death presently begets certain indifference.
But that note recalled death bed that
must always remain one of the most poig-
nant memories of my life. Yes, until my
own hour shall come, the hour that I can
least forget is that which held in it the
death Of the man who had once been my
best friend.
More than thirty years ago was max
ing fortnights tour in Belgium. l had
lately been ordained to curacy, and was
taking my first holiday. 1 was fresh
looking young fellow in those days, hold
ing serious views of life, and though young
for my years, had the fullest sense of the
dignity, no less than the responsibilities,
of the sacred profession I had lately enter
ed. My old aunt, who lived with me-
had lost both my parents while still child
thought me the best boy in the world,
and petted me as though were girl.
Well, l was conceited and presumptuous,
no doubt; something of prig too, perhaps,
as new-Aedged curates are apt to bel
have had plenty of experience with them
since then-but not bad young fellow on
the whole. To do right, myself, and to
set everybody else right, seemed to me the
most important thing in life; and the first
part of the proposition, at any rate, is not
bad formula for man to start with on
his life's career.
l had set out on my travels alone, and
plunging at once into some of the more
picturesque Belgian scenery, found myself,
on the evening of the third day, supping
in the big hotel of little village lying
among hills and woods. l was supping
alone at the end of the long table of an
empty sale a manager. A number of hol-
iday folk from a neighboring town had
come to dine, and departed; silence had
succeeded their clamor; the room, lighted by |
single lamp at one end of the table,
seemed abandoned to shadows and MOON
light, and to me, when young man enter
ed, and calling for coffee and cognac, sat
down in the circle of light just opposite to
me. He was man of about thirty, with |
a pleasant and remarkably clever face; and
presently falling into conversation with
him, | discovered he was the village doctor.
He was a native of the place, able to give
me information, of which l was in need,
the surrounding country; and
we were engaged in talking, with my trav-
cling map spread on the table between us,
when waiter entered and addressed few
words to my companion in low voice.
excuse me for moment" he said,
turning to me courteously, "there is a sick
man up stairs who requires my attendance.
shall not begone many minutes"
In less than quarter of an hour he re-
turned, and sat down opposite to me again;
but he did not at once resume our CONVEX
sation. He sat with his hands clasped be-
hind his head, gazing before him in silence
ga sad case" he said at last, letting his
hands fall to his side; "a life thrown away.
A young fellow wounded MORALLY in a
duel, and brought in here yesterday to
lie. All the doctors in Europe could not
save him. He won't live through the
oight."
In duell'' said, surprised Such
1gs, SO far, had lain outside tie range
~ experiencaN